


Playing With Fire

by Mazuku



Category: Captain America (Movies), Marvel Cinematic Universe, Thor (Movies)
Genre: Anal Sex, Biting, Flirting, M/M, Rough Sex
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-02-23
Updated: 2015-02-23
Packaged: 2018-03-14 19:55:42
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,063
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/3423575
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Mazuku/pseuds/Mazuku
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Their eyes meet. The intensity behind Steve’s gaze is at once exhilarating and terrifying. He looks fierce and proud and beautiful. A god among his fellow Midgardians. Loki traces shaking fingers down one chiseled cheek, drawing his lover closer for a kiss.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Playing With Fire

There is nothing soft about Steve Rogers save for his hair, and his voice as he leans in close to whisper. “Are you…?” Ready? Able? Willing? The answer to all three is yes, but for once in his long life Loki Laufeyson is unable to articulate that fact. He answers with his hands, running them up Steve’s chest, closing them over his shoulders and tugging him closer. 

“Steve,” He manages, voice a hoarse whisper. He had never expected this; never thought that he could ever lust after a man who’d tried so earnestly to kill him in the past. But they are allies now. And in fact, Loki recalls that he made an honest effort to slay Steve in return at the time. It would seem that they are even, in that much at least. 

Their eyes meet. The intensity behind Steve’s gaze is at once exhilarating and terrifying. He looks fierce and proud and beautiful. A god among his fellow Midgardians. Loki traces shaking fingers down one chiseled cheek, drawing his lover closer for a kiss. 

Judging by the nip of teeth and the strength with which Steve’s hand grips his thigh, he is not a man who is tempted by gentleness in bed. Loki bites back, groaning with pleasure, and fists both hands in Steve’s silky locks. He uses them as one would a pair of reins, turns Steve’s head to the side and offers up his neck. The resulting harsh pressure of teeth on such tender flesh makes Loki shudder and arch his hips up. 

“You like that?” 

“Yes,” Loki replies, breathless already. He wants to point out that he wouldn’t be rutting up against Steve in such desperation if he didn’t, but that would require too many words and worse, might distract Steve from giving him further attention. He loosens his grip, strokes Steve’s hair, kisses him again. It’s harder this time, rougher, and accompanied by a pair of determined hands shoving his thighs apart. He has no objections, moaning into Steve’s mouth as one firm hand grasps his cock. 

For some minutes Steve holds Loki in thrall – savaging his neck, stroking his cock, ruining him with sensation and never ceasing or slowing for an instant. It’s only when Loki is straining against him and all but screaming with pleasure that he stops dead. The Asgardian makes a muffled noise of irritation in the back of his throat that turns into a surprised yelp as Steve drags him over onto his front, pulling him up onto his hands and knees. 

Of course. As giving as he seems to be, Steve Rogers must surely demand his own satisfaction too. Loki braces himself on bended arms, listens for the glug of an oil bottle, takes a deep breath as he feels Steve shift behind him, gripping his hips in preparation. 

Norns, it hurts. It burns. It stings. Loki arches his back with a guttural cry. His cock flags at the pain, but all it takes to bring him back to full attention is one grudging, bitten off “Fuck…” falling from between Steve’s lips. 

“That is the point, yes.” His voice is a rasp and he knows he is playing with fire but he can’t resist. It has exactly the effect he was expecting; Steve grabs his hips again, fingers digging harshly into his flesh, and drags him back into a thrust that makes Loki’s entire world spin. And then he does it again. And again. Slow, deliberate and hard. It makes no matter that Loki tries to hold back the moans and cries that choke his throat; they come out anyway, graduate into ‘yes’ and ‘more’ and ‘please’ as Steve fucks him in earnest, gives him every inch with every ounce of strength he possesses. 

It doesn’t take long; orgasm crashes over Loki like a tidal wave, the sensation so strong it almost hurts. He can feel Steve still pounding away at his stiffening body but the sensation is lost in the pleasure. It’s heated and wonderful and as he rides it out he is dimly aware of Steve increasing his pace, fucking him rough and fast. 

“Steve,” He whispers, without really considering what should come after. 

“Oh fuck, oh God!” And with once last brutal shove forward Steve is coming, hips stuttering and then stilling as they both pant into the silence. Loki doesn’t even try to conceal a whimper as Steve pulls out. He is raw with the force of such passion, but it is a pain he relishes. Slowly, hampered by his overworked muscles, he lowers himself down onto the mattress. He is utterly fucked-out – if Steve wants him gone in haste, he’ll have to wait. 

“You okay?” 

“Mm,” Loki replies, too tired to be eloquent. A gentle hand runs from his shoulder down to his hip and he sighs in satisfaction, pleased to find that Steve Rogers is at home with kindness as well as ferocity and frenzy. He would not be averse to returning his chambers for further fun, all told, if this is how Steve always satisfies his lovers. 

“You want to stay tonight?” 

“Hm?” Loki raises his head, with effort. “Don’t you worry what Thor will say if he sees me leaving your room come the morning?” Steve shrugs one shoulder with elegant laziness. A smile lifts the corner of Loki’s mouth in response. “Then I’d like to stay.” He lays himself down, curls up on his side for comfort, and adjusts himself as Steve presses up beside him, warm and solid. Loki reaches up languidly, teases a few strands of Steve’s golden hair through his fingers, and smirks. 

“What?” 

“It’s nothing,” Loki replies, smirk splitting into a wicked grin. “I was just thinking that staying the night saves me having to return for more attention in the morning.” 

Steve laughs, flopping down against the pillows. “You think you can keep up with me?” 

“I fear it’ll be you who can’t keep up with me. You are only a Midgardian, after all.” 

“Try me,” Steve says, grinning as he closes his eyes. “In the morning, though. I need to sleep before round two.” 

It is this teasing flirtation that convinces Loki that he was mad to ever want Steve Rogers dead. He pillows his head on his lover’s chest, throws a casually possessive arm over his washboard stomach, and anticipates the morning with glee.


End file.
